I was getting kind of concerned. He had been pouting around the house for two whole days now. I was used to his mercurial moods shifting quickly and was adept at reading and adapting to them as they came. However, it was very seldom that such a heavy mood came to rest upon him for so long. I knew it was my fault but I also knew that nothing I could say at this point would be helpful so I decided to stay quiet. I also knew that once he was ready I was going to pay. It had only been, (in my opinion at least) a set of minor transgressions, but it was my refusal to apologize or show even a modicum of remorse that had led him to freeze me out, the worst type of punishment for an attention seeking brat (me) whose own moods were often defined by his approval, or lack thereof.
We were only having polite conversation and limited interactions. I was pretending that I didn't care, laughing extra loud as I watched TV or talking super loud to my mom or my friends on the phone as I paced passed him down the hall. He sat in his office chair and stared stoically at his laptop, only slight inflections of his eyebrows let me know he even paying attention. At this point I could have gone on both knees and begged forgiveness and he would have stepped over (or on) me on his way out the door. He was so frustratingly stubborn! But then again if I would have just apologized right after I got home late and was a little tiny bit tipsy then I probably would have saved myself, and him, a whole lot of heartache. Part of me wondered if he didn't also know about the guy at the bar who kept hitting on me or that I kinda liked it.
Regardless, here I was, day three, still all frozen out and not sure what to do. I was lounging in bed as he got up to get ready for work. I was watching him pick out clothes, our normal morning chit-chat conspicuously absent. The pull between us was still strong and this fact alone kept me from freaking out completely but I was starting to get a little depressed from the lack of his affections. He kept glancing at me, both directly and out of the corner of his eye but wouldn't make eye contact. I thought he might have been softening but I couldn't be sure. He finished dressing, then quickly did his hair and brushed his teeth in the bathroom before heading out the door.
No smile. No kiss. Not even a darn good bye. Definitely not softening, I thought pessimistically. I sighed and got out of bed, I was going to clean the house and do the laundry and cook something amazing for dinner. And workout and have something sexy on for him when he got home. Basically do everything in my power to get him to forgive me. I set about getting it all done, starting with making the bed, when the text message alert on my phone went off. My heart leapt when I saw it was from him, but anxiety took over when I read it.
"I'll be home at 6pm. Be ready."
I knew exactly what he meant and while I was happy for the contact, I was worried about what was to come. The alpha, dominant part of him was a big part of what had attracted me to him. I was a rebel at heart but with him, I was naturally submissive. It felt so good the way he was able to bring out and intensify that part of me while still allowing me to maintain my independence. We were a perfect match, our strengths and weaknesses both corresponding and congruent. We fit together like puzzle pieces, only truly feeling whole when we were snapped together snuggly.
The caveat, however, to our intense connection was that when things were off, it threw us into a kind of raw emotional tailspin. When my rebellious side decided to rear it's head and I did something that displeased him, well that was the worst. He was so used to my near obsequious behavior that when I reverted and did something that went against his wishes, it hurt his feelings and forced him away from me and into himself. Which, in turn, left me feeling empty and guilty and helpless to fix the situation because once that line was crossed, he had to come out of it on his own. And when he came back, there was always a price in order to right the wrong.
And the 'makeup' sex, well that was electrifying. It was the victory dance at the end of an arduous battle. The deprivation and sadness in between only served to further heighten the levels of ecstasy when we came back together. When he 'forced' to me to submit to him, it flipped a switch in both of us that gave us an immense, all consuming level of physical and mental gratification. I loved giving myself over to him completely, bestowing upon him my trust and faith, knowing that he would never take advantage of or extort my vulnerability. He knew and understood my limits but always pushed just a little bit past them because I loved and could almost always handle a challenge. Which is why I loved him so much.
It had been a while since I had upset him like this. We mostly lived in harmony, a mutual desire for a drama-less life and a great deal of symbiosis working in our favor. But when I was bad....
I couldn't help but wonder what was in store for me as I cleaned and straightened our home and browsed through the kitchen in search of meal inspiration. Drinking without him was strike one. He liked to monitor my intake, let me know when I had had enough and always made sure I got home safely. Strike two was driving home afterward. Even though I wasn't drunk, not even close, I should have called him. It would have made him feel better if nothing else. Lastly, I was home two hours later than I was expected and I had left my phone in my purse on silent, missing his numerous calls and texts. Strike three.
Any one of these and I could have overcome his wrath, silent as it was, more or less right away. Any two and I could have wriggled back into his good graces with just a little extra effort, I definitely wouldn't have minded that. But all three?! I honestly had no idea what he had planned. I knew that it would be harsh and I would be sore afterward but I was still willing to endure whatever it was in order to restore the balance I had so selfishly thrown off kilter. Plus I knew he would eventually give me all of the pleasure he had been denying back a thousandfold. As nervous as I was, I felt myself opening up, getting wet and excited as I readied myself for him.
By 5:57 I was ready to go. I was wearing a lacy black negligee with translucent bra cups that showed off my pink nipples and matching thigh highs held up by a black belt and suspenders. A skimpy red robe covered me up but still allowed a sneak peak into my cleavage and of my legs. I was completely shaved and wearing his favorite perfume. My hair was back and up, makeup perfection, a little eye shadow with a slutty red lip, my naturally rosy cheeks blushed further with arousal and nervous anticipation. I hoped he wouldn't keep me waiting; although I understood that punishment would fit the crime, I didn't think I could take much more time away from him.
Luckily at exactly six o'clock I heard the garage door open. My insides clenched up as the seconds it took for him to park and find his way inside felt like hours. When the door finally opened I held my breath as I heard his footsteps come through the kitchen and into the living room where I was waiting. Our eyes met for the first time in nearly three days and immediately my spirits soared. It was almost embarrassing how happy he could make me. He looked me over, saw my hopeful grin, and a wry smirk passed over his face.
"Hey," I said, quietly, not taking my eyes off his.
He didn't answer. He instead left me sitting on the couch as he went into our bedroom, to change, I presumed and drag out my torture just a little bit longer no doubt. I tried not to grow impatient as I waited for him but as the minutes ticked by I started to become concerned. Had I misunderstood something? Had I done something wrong? The doubts had just started to flood my mind when finally, mercifully, he emerged. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans along with a scowl that marred his handsome face.
"Hey?!" he mocked loudly when he finally deigned to speak to me and I cringed. He obviously was not going to make this easy. He walked over towards me and roughly placed over my eyes a blindfold that he securely tied behind my head. He then put over my mouth a ball gag, forcing my mouth open and my teeth around it. He secured that as well then sat down next to where I was on the couch and roughly threw me across his lap. I cried out as I felt him lift up my robe and push aside my nightie so he could access my ass and begin my punishment.
"Shut up!" he said as he smacked my ass hard, the stinging slap beginning my journey towards submission. I tried to cry out softly and felt the tears spring to my eyes behind my blindfold earlier than normal as I felt the true extent of his anger at my actions expressed in his assault on my ass. He slapped me several more times, each one harder than the prior, until I could no longer contain my grief and began sobbing around my gag. He stopped smacking me and started rubbing my ass and then my back as I cried, mistakenly letting me think it was nearly over until he suddenly went back to spanking me, spurred on by my infant-like wailing.
